


On the Floor

by timelordvictorious1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Drinking to Cope, Drunk Thranduil, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Thranduil's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelordvictorious1/pseuds/timelordvictorious1
Summary: The anniversary of the death of Thranduil’s wife is hard for him and he gets drunk to cope with his grief.Named after the song by Brandon Flowers, “On the Floor”.Previously titled “Daybed”.
Relationships: Galion & Thranduil (Tolkien), Legolas & Galion, Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil, Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	On the Floor

Thranduil’s days were filled with more endless meetings, petitions, and paperwork than he could handle. He usually took it all in stride; he always knew that this was what would be expected of him when he became king. He wished he had more time for his son. He wished he’d had more time for his wife before she was taken from them. Day in and day out, week after week, and year after year, he performed all the duties that were expected of him. 

There was just one day out of the whole year where he shirked his responsibilities. He didn’t do it because he wanted to, but because it was the one day when it all became too much for him. The anniversary of his wife’s death. 

It had been five miserable, bleak years since Erynith’s death, but the pain was as present as ever, as was the unfillable void she left behind. If he was honest with himself, he was certain he’d never truly get over her death. Not in five, or ten, or even ten thousand years would ever be able to come to terms with it. 

  
  


Everyone knew to leave him alone on that day. No one disturbed him, no one saw him, and no one even knew what he did on those days. Not even Galion, Thranduil’s most trusted friend, was allowed to disturb him.

Galion wasn’t an idiot, though. He was the one person in the entire kingdom who knew what Thranduil got up to on that day. He was the one who was tasked with removing multiple empty bottles of Thranduil’s strongest Dorwinion wine the next day. 

He didn’t say anything about it. He figured that if anyone was entitled to blow off steam one day a year, it was Thranduil.

Thranduil instantly knew what day it was when he awoke that day. It was as if his body knew and adjusted accordingly. It was obscenely early, well before sunrise and unseasonably chilly. He knew there would be no going back to sleep, not on this day, so he decided to get an early start. He opened up a hundred-year-old bottle of wine and took a swig straight from the bottle. This particular Dorwinion was one of his favorites and was the same wine they had drunk on the day of their wedding. It was perfect.

The effect was instantaneous. No sooner had he swallowed the first gulp that a calming, warm sensation washed over him. All the cares in the world were disappearing second by second. After a few more gulps, they were gone.

Pleasantly buzzed, he pulled out a book. Another activity he partook in on that day. The book was old, barely hanging together; one false move and it would completely fall apart. It was Erynith’s journal. It contained potions, remedies, recipes, and any other thought she had ever deemed worthy of writing down. At this point, Thranduil knew the journal better than the back of his hand. But it brought him comfort like few things ever could and pored over it as if it were the first time he had ever laid eyes upon it. 

He lost track of time reading and rereading the book, and by the time he finished, it was around breakfast time. It was as good a time as any to have his breakfast, so he opened another bottle and got to it. 

The cycle continued all day long. Looking over some of Erynith’s possessions and drinking entire bottles of wine over and over until he was too inebriated to continue.

It was night already and all going according to plan, until he saw his door open slightly.

A set of bright green eyes peered up at him in confusion. Thranduil was not so drunk as to not realize who it was, but he was too drunk for just about anything else. He tried to stand and fell flat on his face. Legolas rushed to his side in a state of panic and worry.  
  


He tried to reassure Legolas by telling him that everything was fine, but every word came out more slurred than the one that had preceded it.

The last thing he saw before passing out was his son running away in terror.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive comments, criticisms, and thoughts are appreciated! Let me know what you think!


End file.
